


Made Your Bed

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Traveling Man [37]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 22:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14067159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the music comment_fic prompt: 'Any, any m/m, You Broke Up With Me (Walker Hayes)'.The aftermath ofYour Face Sketched On It Twicefrom Evan's perspective.It really was time for him to move on.





	Made Your Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Still not a McShep fic.
> 
> Sneaked some lyrics from the prompt song into the fic. :) Good song!

The looks on Evan’s teammates’ faces when the doors to Common Room 133 hissed open were precious. Evan wanted to record them. Maybe later, with a pen and his sketchpad. But tonight - tonight he wanted to forget.

Everything.

He wanted to forget his younger, stupid self who’d been drawn in by blond curls and blue eyes and a brilliant brain.

He wanted to forget his far more recent, stupid self, the one who’d run into Rodney McKay right before he was supposed to ship out to Atlantis, the one who’d hoped and hoped and hoped.

Right until McKay sent back that coaster Evan had left for him.

Evan should have realized it wasn’t  _ I want you back, _ it was  _ I’m done with you forever. _

When he’d arrived at the infirmary and seen Sheppard and McKay separating from a kiss, it had been a punch to the gut. 

But now he understood. He didn’t have a chance with McKay, would never have a chance with him again, because he didn’t stand a chance in hell compared to a man like Sheppard. The first time Evan had laid eyes on John Sheppard, he’d been tempted to break his own rules about keeping his hands off of other men, because  _ damn. _

Sure, he’d been surrounded with the likes of Cameron Mitchell and Bryce Ferguson at the Academy, in flight school, with the likes of Daniel Jackson and Jack O’Neill at the SGC, but Evan had goals, and if there was one thing he’d learned from Merry McKay, it was that the goals came first.

The personal fulfillment in achieving nearly impossible goals - two doctorates, becoming a combat pilot, joining the SGC - was worth any personal sacrifice.

Any.

Until apparently it wasn’t.

“Sir?” Reed asked.

Evan stepped into the dim room, and the door slid shut behind him, silent beneath the pounding music.

“Tonight, you can call me Evan,” he said, and plunged into the crowd.

Evan had known about the roving dance club since day one. He knew pretty much everyone overlooked Sergeant Chuck Campbell, the Canadian gate tech, but the man was more than a gate tech: he was the gatekeeper for everything that happened on base.

And he reported the important parts to Evan, for a price. A very reasonable price, in the grand scheme of things. Evan could make puff pastry in his sleep, and all Chuck wanted was croissants.

So when Evan noticed a spike in requisitions for science equipment that McKay hadn’t signed off on, he went to check on it, and Chuck explained. The chemicals and steel parts were for a still. And the test tubes and beakers? Shot glasses and alcohol tumblers. Get the party started.

Evan looked the other way, because people needed to let off steam. And if he futzed with some of the medical requisitions for additional supplies of prophylactics and lube, well, he was keeping his people safe.

He headed through the crowd and to the bar where Amelia and Kusanagi were tending bar. Amelia was good at listening sympathetically. Kusanagi could make drinks with a dexterity that belonged to someone with six hands.

Her eyes went wide behind her glasses when she saw him, but he leaned in and said, low enough for only her to hear, “I’d like a Blow Job, please.” He liked Irish Cream.

Kusanagi nodded. “Coming right up.”

“Oh, I will be,” Evan said, and slid a token across the bar.

No one on Atlantis had clubbing outfits, but given the number of military personnel who were required to keep fit, plus a few judicious accidents in the washers and dryers at SLCR, there was plenty of eye candy on the dance floor.

Evan was wearing a pair of dark cargo pants and a shamelessly tight black t-shirt. He leaned back against the bar and scanned the dancefloor, looking for a potential partner. Who did he want to dance with?

Someone tapped his elbow. 

He turned.

“Your Blow Job.” Kusanagi nudged the little beaker across the bar.

Evan thanked her, picked up, and down the hatch it went.

He was still licking cream off his lips when he stepped onto the dancefloor. The crowd shifted to accommodate him, so he started to move to the music, letting the alcohol seep into his blood and loosen up his limbs and his hips. He danced with whoever danced with him, absorbing the surprised and pleased smiles as people exclaimed  _ Lorne! _ and he corrected them with an easy,  _ Tonight, it’s Evan. _

He hadn’t been  _ Evan _ in years. Everyone who thought of him as  _ Evan _ had been left behind in the California sun and sand and surf.

And then someone pressed up behind him, a bold hand on his hip, another hand sliding along his waist to slip under his shirt. He felt a deep rumble of masculine approval against his back as the hand slid higher and higher.

Arousal spiked in his blood, fueled by a little bit of alcohol, and he thought,  _ Why the hell not? _

So he turned - and found himself face-to-face with Chuck.

Chuck faltered, eyes wide, but Evan grinned, leaned in, and kissed him.

Chuck kissed him back, tentative at first, then hungry when Evan parted his lips and let Chuck in to taste. Chuck resumed his exploration of Evan’s body, roaming hands and rolling hips.

Evan let Chuck guide him off of the dancefloor into an even darker corner. 

“Lorne?” Chuck panted next to his ear, fumbling his hand up Evan’s shirt. He brushed his palm over one of Evan’s nipples, and Evan rolled his hips forward involuntarily.

“Tonight, it’s Evan. Chuck.” 

Evan turned his head, nipped at Chuck’s earlobe, soothed the bite with his lips and tongue. Chuck turned to him, dipped his head to capture Evan’s mouth in another kiss, and then he was fumbling between them, trying to unfasten Evan’s pants with one hand while he stroked Evan’s nipples with the other.

Evan wasn’t helping, rocking his hips, desperate for friction, pleasure sparking up and down his spine, but then he managed to work a hand between them. Their hands tangled, but then Evan’s pants were open.

Chuck groaned when he discovered Evan wasn’t wearing any underwear. He curled a hand around Evan’s hard cock, and Evan bucked into his fist. He was kissing Chuck, open-mouthed and gasping for breath, and he managed to get his other hand between them, to maintain some semblance of dexterity while Chuck stroked him, swiping his thumb over the head, spreading slick precome.

Evan worked Chuck’s pants open, eased his hand into Chuck’s boxers, and he chuckled, low and filthy. Chuck was hard and leaking, and Evan stroked him, matching him stroke for stroke. They brought each other higher and higher. Lightning flashed behind Evan’s eyelids when Chuck growled and shoved, pinned Evan against the wall and stroked him faster.

Evan let his hand fall to his side and rode the sensation till he crested. He managed a faint warning, and then he was coming, hot and messy, and -

“Oh  _ fuck.” _

Chuck was on his knees, licking Evan clean, his tongue hot and slick and Evan’s entire body shuddered, trying to come again, but he had nothing left. 

He tugged on Chuck’s shoulder, tugged again, yanked him up into a kiss, tasted himself. Then he shifted, spun, pinned Chuck against the wall. He caught Chuck’s wrists and dragged his arms up, pinned them above his head with one hand. Then he rucked Chuck’s shirt up, bent his head, and swirled his tongue around a nipple.

Chuck whined in the back of his throat, writhing, but Evan was careful not to get to close, to give him anything to rub his cock against. Instead he sucked and nibbled and licked, first one nipple, then the other while Chuck begged and pleaded.

When he was practically sobbing, Evan dropped to his knees, grasped his cock, and closed his lips around the head, and sucked.

He only managed to stroke and lick twice, three times before Chuck was coming, hard. Evan swallowed him down, pinning his hips in place to keep him upright through the aftershocks.

Then he rose up, crowded close to Chuck, and offered his mouth so Chuck could taste himself.

Chuck grabbed his shoulders, yanked him in, and plundered his mouth, fucking Evan’s mouth with his tongue, and Evan wanted to take Chuck back to his quarters for another round, let Chuck bend him over the nearest piece of furniture and -

“Would someone turn on the lights? I need Chuck.”

That voice was like a glass of cold water.

Evan pulled back, hurriedly fixing his clothes.

There was a lot of grumbling but the lights didn’t go up. Instead the crowd parted, and there was McKay, looking washed out in the neon haze of a glow stick, which he was waving like a flashlight.

“Chuck? Why the hell don’t you have your radio on?”

McKay came up short, taking in Chuck, who was plastered to the wall and panting, clothing in incredible disarray, and Evan, whose hair was a mess and whose lips were red and kiss-swollen from the cock he’d just sucked.

“What is it?” Chuck asked, smoothing down his clothes with shaking hands.

McKay ignored him. “Evan? What - what are you  _ doing?” _

And because Evan was still buzzing with alcohol and interrupted arousal and burning hurt underneath it all, shrugged and smirked a little. “Don’t you mean  _ who?” _

Chuck was drunk enough that he laughed. “Good one.”

McKay’s eyes were wide, expression stark and shocked. “But - your career -”

Evan rolled his shoulders, feigning nonchalance. “Turns out I can have my cake and eat it too. You showed me that recently.”

McKay flinched.

Evan arched an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that, Doc. You broke up with me, remember?”

McKay swallowed hard. Then he snapped at Chuck. “Get to Control, ASAP. And sober up.”

Chuck rolled his eyes. He was off-duty. Tomorrow was his Sunday. “I’ll be there. Let me change.” He reached out, reeled Evan in for a kiss, slow and sensuous, all open mouths and twining tongues. “Catch you later, Evan.”

“Later,” Evan promised, and then he stepped back, let Chuck depart.

McKay stared at him. “Since when -?”

“Since none of your business,” Evan said. He spun on his heel and walked away. He could have headed back out to the dance floor, but all the party spirit had gone out of him, so he headed back to his quarters.

He kicked off his shoes and sprawled out on his bed and set to sketching his teammates’ faces. So Major Lorne was human after all, not just a robot. He’d never fuck his teammates, but fucking with their heads was definitely an option.

He stayed up late, waiting for Chuck to come by, but he never did, and eventually Evan hit the end of his rope. He had to be on duty first thing in the morning, and he needed enough sleep to function.

He crawled into bed alone but with the knowledge that his bed didn’t have to be empty anymore, and he could have someone else in it if he so chose.

The next morning, when he went to check in at Control, Chuck was sitting at the main console, yawning over a stale cup of coffee.

“Isn’t it your Sunday?” Evan asked.

Chuck cast a glance over his shoulder. “My Sunday’s been rearranged. CSO’s orders.”

Evan followed his gaze and saw McKay having a heated discussion with Zelenka and Kavanagh. “Of course it has.”

“McKay’s always so damn cranky,” Chuck muttered. “Don’t know what he’s complaining about, anyway. He’s been getting laid on the regular since the first year.”

Evan forced himself to maintain a neutral expression. Chuck knew? Had known for so long? How had Evan not known?

Because he was stupid. Because he’d hoped. He’d done his best to be his usual, professional self around McKay so that if anyone asked, well, that was what he was always like. Sarcastic. A little unsympathetic to the scientists sometimes. 

“Well, let me know when you’re off,” Evan said.

Chuck nodded.

Evan checked in with Sheppard, and then he headed to the military command office. Paperwork was always a great way to start the day.

He’d just about conquered the latest run of patrol evals when the door hissed open.

He glanced up, expecting Sheppard, but it was McKay.

“Something I can help you with, Doc?”

McKay strode into the office, let the door hiss shut behind him.

Evan knew that look on his face, so he thought the door locked.

“What the hell were you thinking last night?”

Evan arched an eyebrow. “What about last night?”

“You and - and Chuck!”

“You asking something I’m not supposed to tell?”

McKay rolled his eyes. “I’m not a member of your stupidly repressed military -”

“Not so stupidly repressed that you didn’t go crawling back into your own closet as soon as things looked like they’d get difficult for you,” Evan drawled.

A dull, angry flush crept up McKay’s throat. “We were teenagers.”

“I know. It was a long time ago. Don’t get why you’re so wound up about it now. You’ve moved on. Been with Sheppard for over a year now, right? Nice catch. He’s pretty hot.” Evan kept his tone light, flippant.

McKay’s jaw worked. “You weren’t like this before.”

“Like what?”

“All - closed off.”

“It was a  _ long time ago, _ remember? I’m not some dumb kid who was willing to take a chance on someone clearly not willing to take a chance on him, someone who’d been fucking his way across frat parties while they were dating. This is who I am. Major Evan Lorne. You’re dating an officer yourself. You shouldn’t be surprised at what I’m like.” Evan shrugged, slouched back in his chair.

“I stopped sleeping with them,” McKay said in a small voice.

Evan knew that. He’d come to terms with that a long time ago. He’d come to terms with a lot of his beloved Merry’s flaws, but the man standing on the other side of his desk was not his Merry McKay. Evan looked away.

“What is it you  _ want?” _ he asked finally.

“I - I want - I don’t know what I want. I just don’t want you to - to be hooking up with Chuck. Or anyone else.”

Evan was on his feet in a flash, circling around his desk to plant himself in front of McKay and stand his ground. “You don’t get to ask me for that. You left me, remember? Walked away from me after two years of me giving you everything. And you moved on. So why shouldn’t I?”

McKay shook his head. “I - still don’t remember.”

That made no sense. “What?”

“After I locked you and AR-3 in the jumper and sent you back to Atlantis - I don’t know what happened. Beckett said I was concussed, and my memory’s fuzzy,” McKay said. “While I was offworld trying to figure out how to get home, all I could remember was - you.”

If seeing McKay and Sheppard separate from a kiss had been a punch to the gut, those words were a knife twisting between his ribs. He’d wanted to hear those words for years.

And really, how pathetic was that?

“So?”

McKay was frowning, anxious. “I don’t remember getting together with John, not really. I mean, I know I’m with him, and when he’s near me it doesn’t feel wrong, but - I  _ miss _ you. I mean, I must have. I saved that coaster. Kept it folded up in my notebook, the one I take everywhere with me, even offworld.”

Evan had that coaster tucked into his sketchbook. Right now he wanted to set it on fire. “Good for you.”

“You’re not helping,” McKay protested.

“Helping? Why should I be helping you? I offered you my entire life and you turned it down, so now I’m living my life how I see fit and if you don’t like it that’s not my problem.”

McKay shook his head as if to clear it. “It’s all jumbled up in here. On the one hand I remember grad school, working for the SGC, that first year on Atlantis. Sixteen years of learning and growing. But I’m also still eighteen and staring at the coaster your mother handed me and wondering if I should go find you. I didn’t walk away from you because I didn’t love you.”

“You just didn’t love me enough.”

McKay flinched.

Ancient tech thrummed down Evan’s spine.

“You should leave,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because Sheppard’s trying to get in. Unless you want to explain to him why you’re locked in here with me?”

McKay’s eyes went wide.

Evan unlocked the door with a thought, and it hissed open.

“Lorne! What the hell?” Sheppard asked. He paused when he saw McKay. He narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?”

The door hissed shut. Sheppard must have done it.

“Nothing, sir,” Evan said. “Just a difference of opinion. Dr. McKay was just leaving.”

Sheppard turned to him. “Rodney?”

Evan leaned in and said for only McKay to hear, “Remember - you made your bed, and you didn’t want me in it. So go. Before you ruin what you have with him.”

Because as angry as he was at Meredith Rodney McKay, he didn’t want him to be unhappy.

McKay darted a nervous glance at Sheppard, then lifted his chin. “I stand by my decision. You made it back to Atlantis safe. My decision was the right one.”

“You were lucky, not right,” Evan said. “In future, when we’re in the field and combat decisions need to be made and Colonel Sheppard’s not there,  _ I _ make them.”

McKay’s mouth twisted into a frown, but he said nothing. He turned and swept out of the office, let the door close after him.

Sheppard watched him go, then turned to Evan. “And that required the door being locked?”

“Best not to let the kiddies hear when the parents are fighting,” Evan said with forced levity. He went back to sit at his datapad, do some more paperwork.

Sheppard huffed in amusement, sank down at his own desk. “Who’s mom, who’s dad?”

Evan raised his eyebrows. “Who says either of us is mom?”

Sheppard paused, confused, and then his expression turned carefully blank when he processed the implication of that statement. “You know.”

“Not going to tell anyone.”

“Did he tell you?”

Evan shook his head. Then he eyed Sheppard. “Did he ever tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“About the first boy he ever dated.”

“When he was in undergrad. Some surfer kid named...Ethan?”

“Evan.”

Sheppard stared at him. 

“So you can see, I’m not telling anyone.” Evan switched off his datapad, stood up. “Later, sir.” And he left the office.

He headed to the gym where he knew Amelia sparred with Teyla, and decided to do some recon on Chuck. He was a nice guy. Surprisingly good lay.

It really was time for him to move on.


End file.
